Full Birthday Assault
by Little Blossom
Summary: One shot Hiruma/Musashi - Nothing gets him in the mood better then potential destruction. Especially on his birthday.


**Full Birthday Assault**

Musashi merely raised an eyebrow as the front door to his home nearly splintered as it was flung viciously into the wall, the high-pitch groaning of the hinges grating on his ears.

He stared at the newcomer, then turned back to the TV screen.

"Well fucking hello to you too!" Hiruma stood there grinning like a banshee shrieking pleasantries at poor doomed souls. "I come all the way over here _only_ to find you sitting on your sorry ass watching TV. You disappoint me."

A few steps in, a quick merciless kick on the door, more shrieking groaning from the hinges sounding like that damn banshee, and a slight tremble in the walls as the door smacked shut in abuse.

The silence following was very short lived.

"You're in a good mood," Musashi observed, seeing the fires of giddy hell shining in his eyes. Must be what's in that bag, Musashi thought, seeing the black leather that was slung over Hiruma's shoulder, strap gripped with knuckles white in excitement. "I take it you got something good for your birthday."

"Got me a new fucking assault rifle. Fully-automatic AK-74, and a M16 is on the way. He threw that one into the deal as payment for not photocopying a page in my book. Finally a _fully_-automatic military version and not the semi-automatic commercialized shit."

There was an ominous thud as he dropped the bag on the hardwood floor, not even bothering with his shoes as he stepped closer.

"So can I expect to hear more children crying and see more firemen with more work cut out for them as flames wreck havoc?"

Hiruma snorted in amusement (as he forced back a near mad cackle) before coming to stand before where Musashi lay on the couch. "No, you can expect to hear _grown men _crying like fucking pansies, wetting their pants like the shame they are. And the fire departments going to have a hard time doing that when they lack their trucks. I'll be needing them in my next scheme."

Musashi decided it was better not to ask.

"So what the hell do you want coming over here? I rarely get any breaks, and you're not what anyone would call relaxing."

"As the birthday boy you asshole, it's my day for mass control, free reign and _fun!_"

Musashi wanted to point out that in Hiruma's mind, that was everyday, but decided against that too. It was hard to fight him when he cared, let along when he himself lacked the conviction to give a fuck.

And then there was pain as he was pounced into the arm rest, the remote control digging into his back, as a grin, all sharp and edged teeth found his collarbone.

Buttons flew as his ruined shirt fell off his shoulders in tatters. Lines of deep red ran down his chest in angry scores as pointed nails raked over it, cruel and raw. Red blotches on his neck, teeth hungry for the adrenaline starting to run through his body, for the blood that would taste like raw meat, hot and slathered messily in feral desire. It was wet as a tongue ran up and raped his ear, his hands moving to grip the others shoulders to a point it would leave dark black and blue bruises.

Lips meshed, sloppy, teeth and tongue fighting with blades and wicked sweeps.

"New firearms always make you horny as goddamn hell," Musashi said, lips swollen and ravaged like a battlefield, blood dotting where punctured.

Hiruma grinned like a fucking loon as his hands scraped dangerously lower, face not even twitching as Musashi was fisting his hair like how his victims would on a stress relief sack.

Hiruma was yanked in for another mouth pillaging and slaughtering kiss. One hand tore at the pillow beside him, stuffing spilling out, being the first casualty of _only_ today's encounter.

The other hand dragged lower, and he still managed a smirk even though a tongue was currently shoved down his throat. His hand found his territory to claim. He ripped his mouth away as Musashi was put into a momentary stupor. Eyes burning with promises of lewd pain, he squeezed once again, firm and unrelenting.

"I'm going to fuck you up better than my AK-74 can do to your dip shit of a home."

Needless to say, the couch was the next casualty, just before the tiles in the bathroom shower.

And everywhere else really.

~Fin~

* * *

Reviews are always nice. Criticism I ponder over. Flames don't register. I wrote this for Kasugai Gummie awhile back for her birthday. I know virtually nothing about this fandom or this pairing. I hope I pulled it off alright.


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